Little Glass Elephant
by poodwidgeonpaddy
Summary: A girl has been locked up in a cruel prison for a crime she has not committed... so why is she really in there? She conceals something too... a dark secret that she must hide from the evil Boss...


Lizzie Blowey 12BS

**The Little Glass Elephant**

It was always cold in the cells. Not so that it was unbearable or painful, but just cold enough to make the convicts shiver whenever a stray breeze found its way inside their cells and found a bony back or a face to make cold.

It wasn't a very big prison, stood just outside Dublin city, it looked like a run down old factory and those who knew of its existence didn't know its purpose, and the few that did were quickly silenced.

Inside the prison a guard was waiting outside a bare room with the blinds drawn across the windows; not that he wanted to see inside. He was a middle aged man with grey hair, grey skin and tired eyes and dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses, he looked quite formidable.

The guards had to try and hide their identity as much as possible. Everyone did. He was currently waiting outside a dark room for convict 12 in corridor E; he would never know the name of the prisoner.

An inmate fell out into the corridor and the cold stone floor was clothed in shadow. A man stepped out of the doorway the guard was standing next to, and looked down coldly at the figure snivelling on the floor, leaning on the wall for support. He nodded at the guard and the shaking figure was grabbed and frogmarched away. The man looked after them for a minute and then beckoned to another guard in the opposite office to clear up the blood on the chair the convict had been tied to. The man didn't like mess.

Convict 12 was being half carried, half dragged by the guard to a cell on the third floor. Only here for two days, the guard thought, and already losing the plot, or, more accurately, the will to live. They reached a cell with a brass plaque on the door with the numbers 2112 etched into it, and stopped outside it. The guard took out a key and slipped it into a box on the door. There was a loud clunk and the door swung slowly into the room. It gave a sinister _boom _as it hit the bare wall.

The guard could feel the cold wafting out of the room and had to mentally stop himself from shuddering. Pushing the convict roughly inside, he pulled the door back into place, removing the key from the box.

The prisoner was alone; thin arms clenched tight around bony knees; tears rolling down a thin pale face; dark brown eyes searching and searching the room; a_ hiding place; a safe place._

Hurriedly pulling off one of the dirty black regulation boots, the prisoner gave a little wail as large welts on the bottom of the convict's heels were revealed. The captive glanced around nervously and pulled out a long silver chain from the tongue of the boot, revealing a small glass turquoise elephant hanging from the chain. The prisoner inspected it carefully, and dangled it about in the air, enjoying the way the neon light on the ceiling shone on the trunk. The convict smiled, the gesture cracking the dirty skin, muscles having not moved that way for some time. Gradually the prisoner lay down on the hard bed, and drifted off to sleep, stroking the chain and the little glass elephant.

The guard was worried. It didn't show on his face, but he was. He had assumed, when convict 12 had visited the dark room on corridor E that the man, the Boss, or Sir, as the guards were obliged to call him, had got what he wanted. He was wrong.

As soon as convict 12 was in the cell, the Boss had told him, with no minimum of threats that he was to search the previous cell the convict had been in, and look real hard for anything suspicious. So, the guard, wanting an easy life, had searched the bed sheets, the pillow, table, chair, crate, and even the floor panels. However, this was to no avail.

Obviously what the Boss wanted had to be important, but if the man thought that convict 12 was hiding something, he was more off his head than the prisoner. The convict could barely finish a meal, let alone gather the strength to hide something in a room without any nooks or crannies to hide something in.

He went to tell the Boss he hadn't found anything, who promptly swore loudly and slammed the door in his face. The guard went to make himself a cup of tea, determinedly not looking into the dark room.

Inside room 2112, the convict could hear them outside the door, and was terrified. The prisoner's back was hunched tightly against the far wall, heels glued to the cold floor, nails bitten until they bled. They were coming, and they would not hesitate to kill. The convict knew what they were after…It was the little glass beauty hidden inside the dirty prison boots; the prisoner felt a sharp edge prick the top of her foot where it was concealed by a tangle of muddy laces, and shivered.

The low cruel voice of the man from the dark room echoed into the cell, and the convict shrank back like a cat, not wanting to hear.

A few miles from the prison was a very old, disused quarry. It had been there for years, and like the prison, didn't really seem to serve a purpose. It had been empty for years, getting dustier and dirtier.

Tonight, however, three people were crouched in the dark behind a sandstone stockpile, sitting around a small Trangia, waiting for water to boil for coffee. They were also waiting for a signal.

The two men, Brian and Will, were brothers. Brian was slightly older, in his late twenties, and looked tough, like he'd seen a lot. He had, and was wearing a leather jacket to prove it. Will, who was only 19, liked to think he looked tough too, but he just badly needed a shave. He was very excited, and kept glancing at his brother, playing with his penknife, flicking the little knives and the corkscrew in and out.

The woman, Marian was determinedly ignoring him. He was new and too young for a mission like this. She was looking at a blueprint, frowning over the complex lines and symbols, deep in thought. Her eyes drifted, without realising it, to a room on the second floor, Cell 2112. The convict known only as "12" was in there, the poor thing, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Will had already been told not to take his gun out under any circumstances by his brother, so he had to make do with something to play with, not wanting to reveal his nerves to Marian.

The three of them had been instructed very simply later on that day. Get the girl alive; (if not possible then a moveable body would suffice,) kill the boss; and most importantly; get the chain before the authorities did. That was what this was all about. Brian studied the photo labelled _Convict 12_, clipped to the back of the blueprint. The photo was black and white, and a bit worse for wear, portraying an unsmiling face, etched with trouble and fatigue. This person was regarded as a notorious villain, a vile thief or a crook by the authorities, but surely she wasn't a killer. It was all a big mess, that was all, nothing a few gunshots wouldn't solve for a just cause.

But was she really to blame?

The guard was dragging her out of her room. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, kicking and sobbing, wriggling to be free, like a rabbit in a trap. It was almost pitiful, but he didn't go in for that sort of thing. He dropped her, writhing and kicking at the feet of the sneering Boss, who was waiting in the corridor outside the cell. He didn't hesitate. He wrapped his thick fingers around her white neck and slammed her against the wall of the corridor. She choked and spluttered, trying in vain to prise his hand from her neck.

"Stop fecking babbling." he snarled "tell me now, and you'll feel no pain. Don't lie to me, I'll know. Now- where is it? Where have you hidden it?"


End file.
